


i must've (not) called a thousand times

by seoafin



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Self-Indulgent, cheeky markus, i can't write kiss scenes, i just wanted to write smt happy, light north/markus i don't rlly go into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 12:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15219455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seoafin/pseuds/seoafin
Summary: "Just stop!" You glare at him halfheartedly as he raises an eyebrow. Why is he trying to make you feel better? The role reversal feels wrong, like you haven't done anything wrong. "Can't you just...be mad at me or something?"The smile is back. "Are you telling me how to feel?"Your mouth goes dry. "No,no,of course not."





	i must've (not) called a thousand times

**Author's Note:**

> for the sake of the story, markus pushed leo and carl died there. they did my mans markus so dirty, like where was my simon route???  
> anyway i love markus a lot and he deserves the world and so does every character in dbh except maybe like amanda and gavin  
> also this is un beta-d i just rlly wanted to post this

"I don't- you shouldn't go alone Markus."

Before Markus can get in a word, Simon nods. "She's right. Josh and I can hold down the fort, go."

He relents, giving a nod North's direction and pivoting on his heels towards the exit. There's too much on his mind today to be able to focus on Jericho. As much as it pains him to think about neglecting his duties, this is just something he needs to do. 

\---------

He makes this journey every month, like a clockwork. The route is so familiar to him that he could walk backwards and blindfolded, never once veering off path with the same precision and accuracy that makes him an android. 

The rusted gates of the cemetery groan as Markus pushes it open. The walk is mostly silent, save for the crunching of leaves under their shoes and the occasional birds chirping. It's a beautiful day out, the sun peaks through the rustling leaves above them creating a kaleidoscope of shadows in different shapes rotating as the wind blows, and the sky is a light blue, with wispy clouds streaking across the sky.

His fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to sit down and sketch the picturesque scene. At first he almost stifles the urge, an instinctual response to always having to hide. It feels nice to have decisions, to know that if he wished he could sit down and watch the sky until the sun went down.

_free autonomy._

He knows the image is securely locked in his storage databases in what humans would call a memory, and technically speaking there would no recognizable difference between drawing now and later, but a part of him, the part rooted in  _feeling_  says different. It demands, in Carl's voice, that when inspiration strikes it is a gift, to drop everything and  _do_.

some little part of him knows, just knows, that Carl is smiling at him in approval.

But he has things to do, meetings, plans, people that look up to him.

He replays his memories of Carl sometimes. In a dark room far from the general Jericho populace. It's an abandoned room, a storage room of some sort. He sits on a broken crate and closes his eyes, memories replaying behind his closed eyes.

The memories of you are the ones his spends most of his time on.

Play. Pause. Rewind.

You smiling, your clumsy fingers trying to play the piano while he watched right next to you on the bench, and your drowsy eyes blinking in the sunlight on late mornings. How your eyes would light up in that endearing way that would force him to look away, LED blinking in an array of different colors as he busied himself with the handles of Carl's wheelchair, pretending to be ignorant to the grin Carl would shoot his way. 

His memories get murkier and murkier up to the point of Carl's death. You yelling at Leo to leave him alone, only to get man handled into a faceful of art paints, and his immediate reaction to push Leo before he could think of the possible repercussions.

He can't help but wonder where you are now. He knows that Carl's home remains vacant, he had visited, once, as a deviant with curiosity coursing through him. It was an almost morbid curiosity that had him waiting until the majority of Jericho had been occupied while he had slipped out to visit the once familiar residence he had called home. It was empty. Sheets thrown over various paintings, sculptures, and...the piano. Everything was eerily untouched and quiet in a way Carl would've hated. 

He hadn't known androids could feel such nostalgia, yet there wasn't a word that better described the indecipherable feeling that simultaneously felt like a punch to the gut and a sharp feeling of sadness.

North looks around, eyes scanning the various rows headstones in interest. "Is this where...Carl...is?"

The tone is gentle, courteous even-- such a distinct difference from the hostile, snappy remarks he had been greeted with the first time they met. He finds comfort in her presence as a trusted friend, even though he tactics may have been a little, volatile. 

"Yeah." He murmurs, "just a little up ahead."

North's voice cuts him out of his daze. "Markus," she hisses, "someone's here."

He blinks with a moment of clarity, gaze zeroed in on a figure sitting cross legged in front of a grave. He spots the familiar shade of hair, and his thirium heart skids to a stop along with his footsteps. North stops a few inches behind him, glaring at the figure.

The figure is hunched over, so he can't exactly run facial recognition, but those shoulders are too small, too fragile to be Leo's and for approximately 58 seconds he doesn't breathe--not that androids  _need_  to breathe. It's more of a habit than anything that makes him appear more,  _human_. A habit that helps others feel more at ease.

He's run all the calculations in his head already, and there's only one person in the world that it could be. But he can't--can't  _move._

It's so impossibly human that he just settles. And stares. North gives him a look and whispers his name, but all he can do is stare until the figure stands, gives one lingering glance to grave, and turns.

\----------

It's a shitty day.

You slide your credit card through the device and watch the android disappear in the back and return a couple seconds later with your order of purple orchids. She hands it to you, the plastic crinkling as you gingerly hold it in your grasp. You nod your thanks, and there's a "have a nice day," that sounds automated, but you know by the LED that isn't there and the smile that looks just a little too foreign, that the person in front of you is a bonafide android.

You must've stared too long because the android shifts uncomfortably, and you quickly snatch your eyes away, giving her a smile and leaving before you embarrass yourself even further. The flowershop is a nice establishment, you've never met the owners of the quaint shop, but if they still employ androids after all that's happened, you know there's still good left in the world.

The bell above you chimes as you leave, the sunlight feeling nice on your skin as you begin your walk.

There's a small chime that comes from your phone and the bitter taste in your mouth returns, evidence of the voicemail you just received.

Selling your father's paintings.

You wanted to throw your phone at the nearest wall the moment you had finished listening to it.

_It's Ryan Goldstein, we talked before? About your father's paintings displayed at the Museum of Modern of art?  We've received multiple offers to buy, if you are interested. Call me back._

Money, money, money. It makes the world go round you suppose, yet you can't help but feel unresolved resentment at the world for taking your father away too soon. And selling your father's paintings? You know it's already been a year, but the wound still remained fresh. You hadn't looked at any of your father's paintings since the day you had them all covered back at his house, but the notion of selling them seemed almost, blasphemous to you. You had half a mind to never call back, but some nagging part of you said you'd have to do something with the paintings sooner of later or they'd just be collecting dust.

You sure as hell weren't going to let _Leo_ anywhere near them. Sure, he was sober, but trust was tentative. He was treading a thin line and he knew it. You refused to see him, and weren't keen on his insistence to see you. 

Arriving at the graveyard, you can't help the feeling of calm that washes over you. Every step towards your father's final resting place is firm, determined. You've visited exactly 15 times, and it hasn't gotten easier.

Your thoughts stray to the android revolution, more importantly, Markus. There's a strange feeling that filled you every time you looked a

When you arrive, the headstone stares back at you.

_Carl Manfred_

_1963-2083_

_An artist, father, and a gift to all_

Placing the flowers down, you sit down on the ground, and for some odd reason, laugh. You're not really sure where it comes from, maybe it's a culmination of all the anxiety and stress, or maybe it's just the fact that you bought _orchids_ to a graveyard. Well, if anything, your father loved the unconventional.

You don't even realize the tears until they plop to the ground and wet the dirt. The realization that you're _lonely_ is an intruding thought that cements itself in your brain. Until he died, your father was your biggest confidant and supporter, and Markus was, well, Markus was--

he made you happy in a way you knew was wrong.

You had _wanted_ to contact Markus the first time you had seen his speech on tv, but at the last minute you had chickened out, unable to be able to face him after you had let him be taken and thrown away like a scrap of metal. You didn't know how he'd ever forgive you, the guilt too much to bear.

After Markus's first speech, you had tuned into every news outlet that had reported the fight for android rights. You couldn't help the small inkling of pride that had managed to sneak its way into your heart. If your father was still here, you know that he'd be unbelievably proud of Markus.

Even know, with the worst of the worst over, you still can't bring yourself to contact Markus. The part of you that feels rejection would absolutely shatter if he were to look at you with unforgiving eyes, so you settle on looking from afar. Watching him on tv meeting with human leaders to establish treaties, and how many androids regard him as their savior.

"Hi, dad," you start, "I brought you orchids this time." There's too much you wanna say. "Markus did it you know. Made Detroit was an android state." Awe paints your voice, and you momentarily forget you're talking to a headstone. "He was amazing dad, so charismatic. You should've seen his speech. It was..." blinking away the moisture in your eyes, you close them. "Really, really good."

In your pocket, your phone rings-- a reminder of your actual life. You swallow down the knot in your throat and stand on shaky knees, eyes never leaving the grave. You slip your cellphone out of your pocket.

"I love you."

You turn, ready to arrange a meeting when you freeze, a doe in the headlights.

_Oh god, this can't be happening._

The phone drops from your hands as equally shocked eyes meet yours.

It's the first time you've seen Markus in real life in about a year. He's a few feet away, mouth slightly parted as your name leaves his lips at the same time as an exhale.

"Markus." It comes out so quiet, not even you can hear yourself, but Markus blinks. 

It's way too early for this confrontation, and your blood rushes to your ears. Should you take it as a good sign that he hasn't recoiled in disgust yet?

You step forward the same time he does. "Hi."

"Hi."

A cough cuts through whatever _this_ is, and you realize you're not alone.

Your name passes through your mouth and you bring your hand forward in a handshake, but the girl steps back warily eyeing your hand. Jerking your hand down, you give her a small smile. "Sorry," you mutter. She's an android, that much is obvious, but from that interaction alone you're sure that humans haven't been exactly kind to her.

"North," Markus says.

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. It's fake, but the sentiment is there you guess. Her hand's stiff as she offers it to you, but you take it anyway. 

North looks from you to Markus, arms crossed. "Should I leave?" She's says it so casually that you hands start to sweat at the notion of being alone, but Markus gives her a curt nod. A small noise leaves her throat as she looks at you with thinly veiled disinterest. Trying to calm yourself to no avail, you watch as she disappears through the trees.

It's silent again for a few moments, nothing but the sound of rustling leaves and birds.

"You're nervous."

You wring your hands together. "Just-- just a little."

He smiles, and the lump in your throat grows a little bit larger.

_Don't cry don't cry don'tcrydon'tcry--_

"I'm sorry Markus." You croak out. "I-I didn't do anything when they took you. I should've, should've--"

"There was nothing you could've done."

He sounds... _earnest,_ and it makes your heart wrench.

"I could've stopped them, made a distraction, told you to run. _Anything_."

Markus shrugs. "And it worked out for the better." You know he's referencing the android revolution he kickstarted.

"Just stop!" You glare at him halfheartedly as he raises an eyebrow. Why is _he_ trying to make _you_ feel better? This role reversal feels wrong, like you haven't done anything wrong. "Can't you just...be mad at me or something?"

The smile is back. "Are you telling me how to feel?" 

Your mouth goes dry. "No, _no_ , of course not."

He looks the same, like not a day has gone by since the last time you saw him. Except the eyes, they're beautiful. Two different colors in what represents a perfect being--beings created in the image of man, but meant to be _better_.

A hand comes up to your cheek, thumb pressing away a tear. It's warm you note.

"You're crying," he murmurs, eyes searching your face in a loving caress. "Over me?"

You close your eyes and the tears fall. Wrapping your arms Markus, a small sniffle escapes you as his arms make their way around your waist. "Who else?" Your voice is muffled and you nuzzle into his neck, and for a minute, no words are exchanged. The air is ripe with unspoken declarations of love, and i'm sorry's, and--

You look at him, eyes glassy. His eyes fall to your lips and your breath hitches in your throat.

There's no excuse for what you're about to do. That's the final coherent thought in your brain as you close your eyes, rise up and slowly bring your lips to his. Your original intention was to keep it chaste and quick, but it's Markus who deepens the kiss.

Your eyes goes wide as he guides your head to the left, allowing for better access to your mouth. It's a pleasant feeling, and every ounce of guilt and shame is pushed away as you pull him imperceptibly closer. A whimper leaves your mouth, and his mouth quirks up. You didn't know what you were expecting when you kissed him, or what you thought his tongue would feel like, but it's everything you thought and better.

His lips are warm.

Androids don't need air, but you do. You reluctantly pull away, a hairbreadth away, your lungs stuttering for a breath of air. There's a thin string of saliva that connects your mouths, and a warm feeling stirs in your gut at the fact that it's probably yours. You take a long breath, a smile on your lips as you collect yourself. Markus is staring at you, eyes impossibly warm and he leans down to press one last kiss to your lips.

The buzzing feeling's back.

"Markus."

He sports a cheeky smile. He hums, hand going to your hair, and smoothing it down. "That was nice."

"It was."

"I've wanted to do that for a long time." 

You laugh, there's a million feelings running through you, but at the moment all you feel is a buzz. "Right in front of dad's grave too huh?"

Markus shrugs, eyes bright. "Inopportune timing."

Sighing, you lean into him. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

**Author's Note:**

> so technically this is an au of another story yet-to-be written. it's a divergent story where the rea meets Markus after the peaceful revolution, instead of during it. i haven't ironed out all the wrinkles yet and judging on how much i procrastinate shit who knows when it'll be out
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr: @seoafin  
> and send me some markus requests thx


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